


Ola i ka wai ka ʻōpua

by aries_taurus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 5.19, Angst, Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s seen a lot of horrible things. He’s seen plenty of dead children. Mass graves. Genocide.<br/>It never hit him like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ola i ka wai ka ʻōpua

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maman.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Maman.).



> I could not let the end of this eppy pass without fixing it. As much as I like breaking Steve, I just had to _fix him_
> 
> So. I always write a fic to honor my mom’s passing on March 15th, 8 years ago this year. This is a bit late. I’m sorry mom. This is for you. I love you, miss you and I always will. 
> 
> No beta, all goofs are mine.

* * *

 

Closing his eyes helps, but the shaking in his hands is just getting worse. He needs to get out of here.

He swallows the rush of sorrow and opens his eyes, turning the stack of photos upside down. He can’t look at them. He chokes out a sob and his hands keep trembling as he counts, letting his eyes see only the back of the photos, the black celluloid in his grip.

Twenty-two. There are twenty-two photographs.

He drops the stack on the workbench and rushes up the stairs, out the door and into the sunshine, tears spilling down his face. He runs, all the way back to his truck and collapses against it, the unimaginable grief over so many little lives wasted too strong to contain.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, mourning for those lost children. When he can, when he’s found some semblance of composure, he calls Duke, has him send his best, most seasoned, most experienced CSU team and he asks him to have the department shrink on site and on standby.

The silence on the end of the line is telling. Duke only asks one thing:

“How many?”

Steve has to swallow before he speaks. “Twenty-two.”

He stands still, there, outside, until they come. Even when the site’s secured, he stays, standing guard. He has to. Someone has to. How did they miss that prolific a serial killer? How could they fail so many children, so many families?

Now, he understands the thanks of a father for killing his son.

“Hey.”

“Chin,” he greets wearily.

“Grover and Kono are on their wa-

“NO! No. No. Call’em off. I don’t want Kono here. I don’t want her seeing this.” There are no bodies but no one needs to see this, no one needs to see this depth of human depravity. It’s not about being able to handle it. It’s about sanity and not tearing your soul apart when you don’t have to.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Darkness falls and one by one, the vehicles on the street leave, until it’s just him, Chin and Duke.

“C’mon. I’ll drive you home,” Chin says.

He doesn’t say anything. He just feels cold.

He’s seen a lot of horrible things. He’s seen plenty of dead children. Mass graves. Genocide.

It never hit him like this.

He wanders through his house as Chin sits on the sofa and he can’t help but wonder how’s come to this, how he’s reached his breaking point, because he knows this what this is.

He wants to howl his rage and anguish out at the world. He wants to hit the wall, hurtle the beer bottle in his hand at it, punch the hell out of everything he sees, wants to vomit everything in his body until his throat bleeds, swim until the ocean swallows him whole, wants to fucking eat his gun right at this very moment.

Anything to un-see those terrified, desperate eyes. So, so many of them.

“Steve.”

The hand closes on his shoulder and squeezes gently and he rounds on Chin, beer bottle shattering on the floor, fists tight and raised.

Only… Only he sees the sorrow in Chin’s eyes, the same pain he’s feeling, and understanding too, so deep it just _breaks_ him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Chin murmurs in his ear as he holds him up, his legs folding under him. They end up on the floor and Steve just sits there in a puddle of beer and glass, crying in great choking sobs, shaking like he’s flying apart.

He feels Chin’s solid hands on his shoulders, hears him murmur something over and over again and somewhere deep in his grief, he recognizes the words;

Ola i ka wai ka ʻōpua.

It’s an old Hawaiian proverb. He’s heard it before but he doesn’t recall the meaning but he focuses on the softly spoken words, until the storm of emotion passes.

He sniffs and wipes at his face with both hands, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t. Ola i ka wai ka ʻōpua,” Chin says again.

“I’ve heard it before. Can’t remember what it means.”

“Rain gives life.”

He looks up at Chin, frowning.

“Your tears, brah. They’re the rain that gives life to the memories of those children, that gives them a voice, so they won’t ever be forgotten. Don’t apologise.”

He nods, closing his eyes. He’s so, so tired.

He feels Chin lean in close, put a shoulder under his arm and hoist him up. He manages to get his feet under him and he lets himself be dragged up the stairs, stripped and put to bed without protest.

He closes his eyes and lets sleep take him into oblivion because he can’t face this anymore. It’s too much on top of too much and he just can’t deal anymore. He _can’t._ So for once, he surrenders and escapes, hoping for a dreamless night.

 

* * *

 

 

He gets his wish. He wakes up to bright morning sunshine, the light burning away the remains of the gloom in his heart but not the sadness. He knows he’ll carry the grief of those lost little lives with him forever but he knows he at least got them justice and maybe that’ll help him sleep a few more nights.

He’s not emotional, by nature, by his upbringing, but this job, these people around him, they make him feel things deeper than he’s used to. Sometimes he thinks that’s a bad thing, makes him feel like he’s weak but he knows that’s not true.

Sometimes though, it’s hard to remember, like last night. That’s when he needs the reminder.

He showers quickly, surprised to find himself calm and at peace.

He smiles when he makes his way downstairs, finding Chin still asleep on his couch and the beer and glass cleaned up from the floor.

It’s true, what Chin said; rain gives life. He feels like the island after a good rain; worn out, scrubbed raw, but clean, ready to face what comes next.

That’s what matters, he thinks; not these messy feelings that make him feel weak and off balance but the people around him, this patchwork O’hana he’s built, there to hold him up when he needs it and the other way around too. He’ll do anything for any of them, from letting them cry on his shoulder to giving them a good smack if that’s what they need to see the world straight.

He goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle to boil, grinding some coffee. He hears Chin grumble and he stumbles into the room as the kettle whistles. He nods and smiles and Chin smiles back.

Today is going to be a good one, better than yesterday. His motto was “The only easy day was yesterday” for a long time.

It’ isn’t so much, anymore. It’s more about the bad not being so bad, thanks to the people around him.

And for that, he’ll eternally be grateful.

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Maman, je t'aime.
> 
> Oh and I have a Tumblr now: http://ariestaurus21.tumblr.com/


End file.
